Paul Nelson wrote: "It is hard to claim too much for the man who in every sense revolutionized modern poetry, American folk music, popular music, and the whole of modern-day thought; even the strongest praise seems finally inadequate. Not many contemporary artists have the power to actually change our lives, but surely Dylan does—and has."

Paul wrote this in 1966, the year after Dylan "went electric" at the Newport Folk Festival and left behind a heretofore devoted audience of dyed-in-the-wool folk-music enthusiasts (an event that also contributed to Paul resigning his post as managing editor of Sing Out! magazine—but that's another story).

Performing Tuesday night at Prospect Park in Brooklyn, Dylan remained just as artistically unyielding.

The last time I saw Dylan live was 20 years ago and also outdoors, near Park City, Utah. His face was puffy and he was slightly hunched forward, as if he were being crushed by the weight of his own reputation. One of his surlier periods, he would just blast through song after song, each one almost indiscernible from the next. This wasn't Dylan gone electric—it was Dylan gone electrically bombastic.

But I was not surprised. I knew from recordings that Dylan performing live was a chameleonic chimera. There was the bellowing Dylan (with the Band) from 1974's Before the Flood; and two years later there was the punk-rock Dylan spewing fiery deliveries on Hard Rain. What we got at Prospect Park this week was a defiantly elegant Dylan, his voice at once ravaged and ravishing, as thin as a whip and just as dangerous. His band was sharp and exact—like a surgeon's knife, or Jack the Ripper's blade. He played his music the way he wanted to play it, everybody else be damned.

So it was with some amusement that, on our way out of the park after the concert, we heard grumblings to the effect that Dylan "didn't even know the words to his own songs," which "didn't sound the same," and (my favorite) "He didn't even play 'Mr. Tambourine Man'!"

Forty-three years after Newport, he's still got it. And 42 years after Paul's words, even the strongest praise still seems inadequate.

I recently sold my first book. In conjunction, I've established another LiveJournal to report on the project's progress, occasionally provide links about, and writings by, its subject, Paul Nelson (long-time champion of Bob Dylan, and famous for his Rolling Stone cover story about Warren Zevon's battle with alcoholism), and share snippets of information or parts of interviews that may or may not be covered further in the final product.

Anybody interested in learning more about this brilliant critic, whose own life proved just as mysterious and fascinating as the artists' about whom he wrote, is welcome to join. As well, tracking the process of how a book goes from sale to publication should prove interesting. I'm rather curious about that part myself...

I'm not sure how so many years got by without my having seen this. I was alerted to it by a fine piece, "Why We Keep on Rolling With Dylan" (basically an onstage dialogue between critic Greil Marcus and novelist Don DeLillo), that appeared last month in The Daily Telegraph in the UK.

"In 1991, Bob Dylan was given a Lifetime Achievement Award at the Grammy show," Marcus explains. "They now hand these out very promiscuously, but this was unusual at the time -- it was a big deal. So Dylan comes on with a very noisy, loud, small band, all dressed in dark suits with fedoras pulled down over their heads. And they go into the most furious, unrelenting, speeded-up piece of music.

"And Dylan is slurring his words, you cannot understand what he's saying, but you don't need to. The sound that's being made is so thrilling. And about halfway through, at least for me -- other people might have caught on more quickly, maybe later -- I realised he was singing 'Masters of War.' His most unforgiving, bitter, unlimited denunciation that he's ever recorded. It's a song about arms merchants. It ends with 'And I hope that you die, I'll stand over your grave, I'll follow your coffin.'

"Not too many songs really wish for the death of the subject, the person who's being addressed. Then he gave a little speech after his award, where he managed not to thank anybody."

I'm new here, just joined today as a matter of fact. Needless to say I am a Dylan fan, an obsessed Dylan fan. Example: I went to a Switchfoot concert (I got free tickets, but not a huge fan) and all of a sudden he puts on a harmonica and I tell the friend I'm with, it's like Bob Dylan and then the lead singer says "I would like to dedicate this to one of our greatest inspirations" and he starts playing the acoustic and harmonica and it was Times They Are A-Changin'. Needless to say I knew which song it was before he even started singing and yelled "Bob Dylan, YEAH!" I thoroughly embarrassed my friend I was with...but yeah, I hope I belong here and I hope I'm not the only person who's ever done anything quite like that.

Jonathan Cott: When I was waiting to pick up my ticket for your Portland concert last night, I happened to ask the woman behind the desk where all these kids were coming from. And she said: 'For Bobby Dylan, from heaven - for Black Sabbath, who knows?'Bob: Well, I believe it, don't you? Where else could my particular audience come from?Cott: I've already met two angelic types - one in your dressing room here in New Haven, the other the girl whom you knew fifteen years ago who brought you a breakfast in Portland.Bob: They're all angels...

Has anyone seen the new issue of Rolling Stone (I just got it in the mail today)? It mentions Bob like five times (at least)! One article is about a page long and the others are a bit shorter, but still substantial. They're mainly about the XM radio show, but also about a new book of his interviews coming out and a RS cover he did. He's also mentioned in an article about Hunter Thompson. I was so excited when I saw all the Bob-love. Just thought you guys might be interested in checking it out.

Also, on a side note, has anyone seen this site? It has some of Bob's writing. I really like Dear Mummy (Letter to Joan Baez's mom).

like it was about the time i wasscratching an trying t bend his elbow off he startedcalling me ramona.i swear at first i thought it was some game.he kept sayin things like "no use trying" an words like "exist" anmummy i swear he even mentioned something aboutcrack country lips.

can anyone link me to a site to get rares from? i remember i found one awhile back but i've searched for a long time and can't seem to find anything. i have everything else on every album dylan's ever done (ie, the entire discography), now i just want to get my hands on those early, early covers (a couple liam clancy covers he did, and some others), or whatever other rares i have yet to get.

or, if they could be uploaded to the gmail account, that'd be awesome.

also, i'm looking for live versions of "license to kill" and "quinn the eskimo". if you have them, pleaaase let me at them!

can anyone tell me where to find the song "license to kill"? i tried limewire, found one, but it won't download (not enough hosts bullcrap)-- could someone upload it to the gmail account, if you have it? i don't know if it's rare or not, though.. just remember i loved it and it's hard as hell to get.

Later today I'll email some more songs to the Gmail account. I tried a few minutes ago, but it was being incredibly slow. The theme of the next email will be Guthrie Covers (as done by Dylan), and it will include Pastures of Plenty, Blowin' Down the Road, Deportees, and Gyspy Davy.

OH HAPPY DAY! HAPPY ANNIVERSARY: 45 YEARS AGO TODAY BOB PLASYED GERDE'S FOLK SITY. IT WAS HIS FIRST PAID GIG! (this article isn't exactly the most flattering. well, the author seems to think pejoratively about dylan's voice and invention of himself. I just think its part of the art myself!